


Clean

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cousin Incest, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pseudo-Incest, Shower Sex, angsty porn, possibly not an entirely thought through au scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8754556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Two rules: they don't talk about it after, and they don't do it in a bed.(“Love you,” he mutters against her lips, and he wonders which one of them he's trying to prove something to.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a valar_morekinks [gif prompt](http://valar-morekinks.livejournal.com/5909.html?thread=2409237#t2409237). So this is a modern au (bc shower), but some sort of modern au where canon events (or rough equivalents thereof) still happened? Not quite sure what's going on there.

“Hey Jon, could you come help me in the bathroom for a moment?”

* * *

Two rules: they don't talk about it after, and they don't do it in a bed. She moans as he buries his hand in her hair, hoping he won't pull too hard, but from the way she bites his lip and arches her back, he thinks it's fine. He still comes to her room late at night, if he hears her sobbing no matter how hard she tries not to – she tries not to worry him, she tries not to let him know the pain she's in, she tries not to be in pain – but he never touches her then. He can't help but imagine what her mother would think, Jon Snow taking advantage of her daughter when she's vulnerable.  
  
The sound is drowned out by water pouring, soaking her auburn hair until it's almost as black as his.  
  
Of course, Sansa is less vulnerable now than she ever has been. Which is not to say she's not still vulnerable. But she grabs his biceps – hard and firm from his years in the army – and guides his arms until his hands wrap around her hips.  
  
He groans and hitches her up, inviting her to wrap her long legs around his waist – her legs are so long, she's taller than he is now, if only by a couple of centimetres – and holds her tight, tight enough he's scared she'll bruise. He still shudders to think of the marks Joffrey left on her, let alone Ramsay. But Sansa doesn't seem to mind if – when – Jon bruises her. _It's different_ , she says. He wonders how.  
  
( _I trust you_ , she tells him.)  
  
She's gasping as she grinds against his cock, and he can't hold out anymore, he buries himself in her tight wet heat and listens to her cry out. _Did I hurt you?_ he wants to ask, but he knows he won't get an answer, she'll just bite his lip again so as not to have to think about such things.  
  
“Love you,” he mutters against her lips, and he wonders which one of them he's trying to prove something to.  
  
She doesn't reply as such, but she moans, and breaks the kiss to bury her face against his neck, sucking and biting to mark him as her own. She's far less shy about leaving bruises than he is.  
  
He gasps and grabs the perfect white cheeks of her arse tight, while pushing her up and down on his cock, while she whines against his skin and clings to his shoulders, his back and her calves pressed up against the cracked shower tiles. “Jon,” she whispers, reminding herself who he is, where she is, and that she's safe now – as safe as she'll ever be.  
  
“Love you,” he repeats himself, and she pulls back to kiss him again, tugging roughly at his black curls as she slips her tongue into his mouth. Her breasts are full enough now he feels them squash against the muscled plain of his chest. It is hard to remember her as the twelve year old she once was, the one who was never sure if she should kiss his cheek, or his lips, or hug him, or shake his hand. _She is not my sister_ , he reminds himself, no they are merely cousins which is legal enough, if still not exactly smiled upon – but he always used to think of her as his sister, even if he wasn't sure she thought the same of him.  
  
( _Brother_ , she's called him once or twice while they've done this, and it's strange how she truly thinks of him as a brother only now she's fucking him – but she trusts him, that's the important thing.)  
  
She moans again as his hand finds its way to her front, stroking its way through red curls to find the little nub buried beneath. The red makes him think of Ygritte, like Sansa, beautiful, strong, red – dead. _Sansa is not dead_ , he reminds himself. No-one could blame her for being so, but she is as stubbornly alive as anyone, she is with him, and right now she is his world.  
  
(Bran and Arya are still out there, somewhere, and he tells himself they will come back – and he wonders if he and Sansa will keep this up once they do.)  
  
“Jon,” she gasps again as she pulls his hair, the pace of his thrusts quickening, as the hot water sprays down on them, “feels good, I'm going to come, I'm going to come.”

He groans again and pulls her close, whispering in her ear and nibbling on the lobe, “come for me, Sansa, I want you to come, please come for me, please...”

She shudders all over and cries out once more, clenching tight around his length, her nails digging deep enough into his shoulder blades to scar. He moans and falls over the edge, his legs almost giving way as pleasure crashes over him. But he won't let her fall.

Once she's done though he does set her back down, and is reminded just how tall she is now – she's not his twelve year old sister anymore. Which is for the best, considering. She smiles at him, and just for a second, he watches his seed run down her leg – he knows she's on the pill, but it always gives him a fright to see it – before it's washed down the drain.

There is a purple mark on his shoulder, and the water won't wash that away.

 


End file.
